


Forgotten

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when our best intentions hurt the ones we love, and our attempts at fixing things, only make them worse? One-shot, follow up to Blood Son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

Forgotten

 

Damian hissed in pain as the needle was removed from his arm.  Alfred had pulled just a bit faster than normal as he quickly turned to cover a sneeze.  The family butler had been fighting a cold for the past week, and now, he fortunately was winning that fight.  The rapid removal had caused a line of blood to follow the needle down the boy’s arm.  Damian was no stranger to bleeding, but it was usually the result of field action.

Not that Damian had seen any field action recently.  Following his run-in with the Scarecrow’s latest fear toxin six weeks ago, Bruce had sidelined Damian from all night activities until he could be sure that there would be no lasting side effects from the toxin.  That had included blood tests every other day for the first two weeks, tapering off to twice a week, and now only once a week.  Damian felt like a human pincushion.

Taking the gauze from the butler, the boy covered his unintentional wound and applied pressure to staunch the still dribbling flow.  Alfred grabbed the three vials of blood and took them to the lab portion of the cave as Bruce entered the medical bay.

Seeing the blood on Damian’s arm, Bruce became concerned and asked, “What happened?”

Damian looked up at his approaching father and grumbled, “Little problem with the needle, I’m fine.  Let me guess, now you’re going to tell me that I have an injury, and I can’t go on patrol tonight, even though it will stop bleeding in a minute, and the sleeve of my tunic will cover it up.”

Bruce winced and tried not to lose his temper.  Dick had been trying to get Bruce and Damian on better terms since Bruce’s return from his trip through time.  Both Wayne’s were on edge, now was not the time to turn up the heat.  “You know why you can’t go on patrol tonight.  I’ve explained it to you several times already…”

“Well, explain it to me again,” Damian interrupted, his face reddening in frustration.  “I understood the first week or two.  I really didn’t feel up to patrolling then, anyway.  Why am I still stuck here?  Why am I still the guinea pig for your new gas chromatograph machine?  Every blood test for the past two weeks has come up clean.  What are you expecting to happen?”

Bruce took a deep breath before saying, “Son, I’m just trying to look out for you.  You got hit by a new fear toxin.  I just want to make sure that we know it’s out of your system before I let you back into the field.  I don’t want any surprises on a patrol.”

“There haven’t been any surprises.  Yeah, I had a couple nightmares, but even those have stopped.”

Bruce took a step forward, hesitated at the borderline fearful look from his son, then continued forward and began dressing the small wound to the boy’s arm.  “Damian, it’s important that we not rush things.  Besides, you deserve a little break.”

Damian watched the rough hands bandage his wound with surprising gentleness.  “You never kept the others out of the field this long after being attacked by Scarecrow.  I’ve had plenty of extra time at night, I checked.”

“None of them were unconscious for two weeks as a result of the gas, either.  I still maintain that you need the break.”

Damian pulled his now-bandaged arm out of Bruce’s grasp and got up.  He stood on the opposite side of the exam table and said, “A week is a break, Father.  A month feels more like a forced retirement.  Am I ever going to get back out of the cave?”

Growing more frustrated that his attempts to protect his son were being seen as punishment, Bruce’s face began to get just as red as Damian’s as his voice grew an edge.  “I don’t want to argue with you about this, Damian.”

“I don’t want to argue, either.  I just want a straight answer.  Am I still Robin, or should I let Drake know he can have his old job back?”  The last line was delivered with a slight quail in his voice, belying the fear that had been such a large part of his post-toxin nightmare.

Bruce gasped, realizing that Damian wasn’t questioning his place at Batman’s side, he was questioning his place in Wayne manor.  Bruce had cried when Damian told him the content of his visions, but secretly wondered if they could ever come true.  Father and Son hadn’t had the best relationship before Batman’s encounter with Darkseid, and the months spent apart hadn’t helped anything.  The months since his return had been rough on both of them, with far more raised voices and harsh words than hugs and cuddles.

“You are my son, Damian.  That comes with a lot of perks, and a lot of difficulties, not least of which is dealing with me.  I know that, I accept that.  Your brothers all accepted that, as well.  So, can you trust that I may just know a little more than you on certain subjects, and am acting in your best interest?  I just want what’s best for you.  I just want to know that you’re safe.”

“What about me?” Damian’s arms flailed out to emphasize his exclamation.  “What if I want to know that _you’re_ safe?  I’m not only your son, I’m your partner.  Did you ever consider that the reason it’s so hard for me to stay here is because you’re out there alone?  How do I know that you’re not injured, or being hunted, or captured by an enemy?  How do I know that you aren’t going to come home with some injury?  Possibly some injury that could have been prevented if you had your partner with you.  Do you think it’s easy to just watch you go, with only your word and a vague hope that you’ll come home?”  The boy’s head bowed, and his fists balled at his sides as he said in a hoarse tone, “Grayson and I watched you leave…that night.  We were convinced that nothing could possibly go wrong…until it did.”

Bruce watched as his normally emotionless son stood shaking before him, tears standing out in his eyes.  “Damian, I need you here.  If I know that you’re here, safe, it gives me a reason to do everything I can to come home, and come home safe.”

Damian turned his back on his father and muttered, “You’ve always had a reason to come home safe, from the day you took Grayson in to today.  It’s never stopped you from going out in the first place.”  Damian began walking away, now talking to himself.  “Why do I even try?  Why even waste my breath?  It’s not going to change anything.  I bare my soul to him, and nothing changes.  Why bother?”

Damian trudged out of the medical bay, as Alfred rejoined Bruce next to the exam table.  Bruce stood in shock, wondering just how long that outburst had been building up in his stoic son.  “What the hell was that, Alfred?”

Alfred looked at the empty exam table and said, “I assume the young master will not be joining you on patrol tonight, sir?

“I can’t have him out there; not yet.  I just don’t know enough about what happened to him to feel safe letting him out on patrol.”

Tidying up the small area, Alfred said, “Does it surprise you that he worries about you when you patrol alone?”

“Well…yeah, it does.  I mean, he’s never shown anything like…this…before.”  Bruce sat down on a stool next to the exam table his son vacated minutes earlier and hunched over, holding his head in his hands.  “Aw, Alfred.  I don’t know what to do with him.  I don’t know why it’s so hard to connect with him.  We’re like…rubber bands.  We’re fine for a minute, then something stretches us apart, and we snap.  Then, we have to be put back together again, so we can stretch and snap all over again.”

Alfred laid a hand on a tense shoulder and said, “Forgive me for saying so, but have you tried just talking to the boy?  Not a conversation with a purpose, but just as a way to get to know him?  To ‘shoot the breeze’, if you will.”

Bruce sighed hard before answering, “Yeah, and he shot me down, hard.  He told me that small talk is a waste of time, and he had much better things to do.”

“…And I assume you left it at that?”

Bruce looked stunned, as if an unexpected thought had just hit him.  “Well, yeah.  I don’t want to force him into anything.”

An exasperated yell of frustration echoed throughout the cave, causing both men to jump.  There was no question where the shout had come from as the butler and the billionaire stared at the door.  When no one entered the medical bay, Alfred continued to counsel Bruce.

“Did you consider that he might _want_ to be forced into something?  One of the qualities that has endeared Master Dick to Master Damian so well is his persistence.  Master Dick has spent quite a lot of time chasing after his youngest brother, in the hopes of a few minutes of meaningful interaction with the child.  I suspect they both have their own reasons for continuing in their method of communication, now that it really isn’t necessary, but the key is that it works for them.”

Bruce gave an interested look at the butler.  He had seen this behavior from his boys.  Now that Alfred brought it up, Bruce wanted to know more.  “I’ve seen them doing that.  I meant to ask Dick about it.  I would like to know your thoughts on the subject.  What do you think their reasons are?”

Alfred smiled as he pulled another stool over and sat down with his oldest charge.  “I first noticed the behavior shortly after you…well, after you were gone.  Master Damian was so closed off.  He would go days without speaking to anyone.  Master Dick decided that the boy needed to have some form of healing, and the best way to find out what he needed was to ask him.  Master Dick spent a week following Master Damian around, asking any question that came to mind.  He went out of his way to track the boy down, no matter how much he wanted to hide himself away from everything.  Watching this behavior, I realized that what Master Damian wanted and needed the most was the pursuit, the knowledge that someone was taking the time to care about him.  Master Dick showed an interest, and didn’t give up when Master Damian slammed the door in his face, quite literally, several times.  Master Damian wanted someone to pursue him, so that he could tell himself he wasn’t giving in too easily as he formed bonds with his brother, the bonds that he so desperately wanted.

“I noticed soon after that Master Damian was not trying so hard to evade his brother.  He even initiated contact, from time to time.  Now, I believe that pattern has become ingrained.  His brother has taught him that it’s okay to open up, but Master Dick had to earn the right first.  It’s the pursuit, the persistence; that will win over the boy.  Trying once and giving up, because you think it is the right thing for the child, is actually telling him that he is not important enough for you to make a concerted effort.  It may be painful for you, and it may take far longer to reach the same goals as Master Dick has, but he wants you to at least try.”

Bruce was close to tears as he said, thickly, “How do you know?  How can you be sure that he even wants that?”

“Two reasons, my boy.  First, you have already made several attempts, and using your rubber band analogy, once the two of you ‘snap’, he stops and waits for you to try again, and each period in between your fights has grown steadily longer.  Second, I have seen it work in the past.  Master Damian wants you to want him.  He came to us so woefully inexperienced in familial love, that he is only able to recognize the first form that was shown to him.  Master Dick chased him, wore him down, and won him over.  He expects the same from you.”

Bruce thought for a minute before glancing up at the butler and saying, “He doesn’t expect it from you, and you two were able to form bonds.  I’ve seen how he treats you.  He cares for you almost as much as he does for Dick.”

Alfred smiled softly at the description.  “Our relationship is different.  For one, I’m not the boy’s father.  He has no reason to try to impress me.  I am little more than a favored helper to him.”

“You’re far more than that, and you know it.”

“I am but a conduit to you, sir.  Have you read the various reports relating to the Oshimaida Affair?” Alfred asked, referring to Batman and Robin’s battle against the villainous Dr. Daka.

“Yes, I read all of Dick’s reports, why?”

Alfred looked at the man strangely, “ _Only_ Master Dick’s reports, sir?”

“What else is there?”

Alfred shook his head, “There is a full accounting of incidents written through the lenses of Batman, Miss Oracle, Red Robin, and Robin.  You will get a far more complete picture of the events if you take the time to read all of them, in order.  However, there are two items that did not make it into the official report.  First, on the day that Master Damian was brought home from the hospital, I had a long talk with the boy.  He asked me to tell him about you.  You must understand, at the time, we didn’t know that you were still alive.  Master Damian thought he would never have a chance to get to know his father; that the opportunity had been taken from him.  It pained him that he would never have that chance.  I told him what I could, and he seemed happy with that.

“The second piece that didn’t make it into the reports occurred after Dr. Daka was defeated.  I’m sure you have read the account of the final encounter?” When Bruce nodded, Alfred continued.  “Then you know that he not only disobeyed orders to go protect Batman, but he left to protect his brothers.  He also disobeyed me by leaving without permission.  He willingly came to me and accepted his punishment, and that is the only reason he is not still grounded today.  I also spoke with him following the final debriefing.  He appeared distraught, and was on the verge of tears at a time when he should have been extremely happy, and satisfied with his exemplary performance.  His thought process didn’t allow for that, because he was stuck on one facet of the encounter.  Daka died through Master Damian’s actions, quite inadvertently, and the boy’s mind stuck on the promise he made to you to not kill.  He thought he had tarnished his memory of you by not keeping his promise.  Yes, a man did die, but his actions were completely necessary, and his original intent was to incapacitate, not kill.”

_He remembered, and tried everything to stick to his word, because it was given to me.  That’s special, no matter what is wrong with our relationship._   Bruce tried to hide his sniff as he said, “What are you getting at here, Alfred?”

The smile was back on Alfred’s face as he said, “You are trying too hard, Bruce, and you are not trying hard enough.  Pursue him, as I said, but don’t force the issue.  You are not Master Dick, no matter how much you think you need to be.  Master Dick has built a wonderful, brotherly bond with the boy.  It’s time he had a father.  Use the same methods, but build a different relationship.  He has used every method at his disposal to learn about you, why don’t you let him get his knowledge from the source now?  Show him the Bruce Wayne that I know still exists somewhere in there.  Show him the Bruce Wayne that took in a lost and lonely circus boy all those years ago, and turned that boy into the man who is desperate for you to have a relationship with your son.”

“I don’t know if I still have it in me, Alfred.  Damian and Dick are two different people.”

“So was Master Jason.  So was Master Timothy.  You made it work with them, you can make it work with your own son.”

Bruce scoffed, “Tim and Jason, those really worked out well.  So well that one would just as soon kill me as shake my hand, and the other hasn’t set foot in the house in months.  Sorry Alfred, but I’m not exactly batting a thousand here.  I would like to at least be hitting five hundred.  I guess I should apologize to you now for all the future yelling, arguments, and anything that gets broken in the meantime.”

Alfred grew a stern look and a strict tone of voice.  “If you go into it with that attitude, you have no choice but to fail.  You have been a successful parent before, you can be one again.  Now, go.  You have a lot of ground to cover.”

Bruce nodded with a worried smile and walked out of the medical bay.  He was startled as he almost ran into Dick, who was leaning against the wall outside of the medical bay and obviously waiting for Bruce.

Bruce sighed and said, “Well?”

“I told you he would push back, and you would have to ignore it and keep trying.  Now, Alfred is telling you the same thing.  Just do it this time, Bruce.  It hurts me to see the both of you hurting so much.  Oh, and lighten up on the patrol restriction.  I guarantee he will ease up if he can work off some of his stress.  Despite what Alfred said, Damian’s biggest fear is being useless.  Where he was raised, if something was useless, it was disposed of, permanently.  He doesn’t want to do anything that will make you get rid of him.”

“Kind of like you, once upon a time?” Bruce said with a smirk.

Dick grimaced as he remembered the insecurities that every adopted kid feels.  “Yes and no.  I was always afraid I would do something that would disappoint you so much that you would want to put me back into the system.  Damian is afraid that he will do something that would disappoint you so much that you will decide he no longer deserves to live.  You trained with the League, so you are well aware: failure equals death.  His mother and grandfather instilled in him daily that the only way to earn his place in the League, and through that, their love, was to be perfect.  That is the only parental norm that he knows.  No matter how much I’ve tried to change his mind, I’m not his father.  Only you can do that.  Have we kicked around this subject enough yet?  Can you just go and try again to be the father your son wants you to be, and keep trying until you get there?”

Bruce reached out and hugged Dick tightly as he whispered, “I’ll try.  I’m going to need help, though.”

Dick whispered back, “You really don’t, but Alfred and I will always be here.  Maybe this one last bit of advice will come in handy, though.  Talk to him in the way you wish someone had talked to you when you were growing up without your parents.  Don’t sugar-coat anything, but don’t coddle him.  He’s more ‘you’ than you realize.  You can do it.”

They separated as Bruce said quietly, “Thanks, Dick.”

Bruce turned to leave the cave to try again at being a father when Dick called out to him.  Bruce turned around as Dick said, “Oh, hey, I almost forgot the reason I came down here in the first place.  I just got off the phone with Timmy.  He’s coming home for the weekend.  He said he’s stayed away for too long, and he wants to see everyone.”

Bruce looked concerned, “What about him and Damian?  Tim seemed quite…adamant…in his desire to stay away from him.”

Dick shrugged, “He told me they worked something out, and he doesn’t think it will be a problem.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped, “They _talked?_   Where was I?  Why didn’t I know about that?”

“As far as I know, they haven’t actually talked, but there have been a couple emails that have gone back and forth.  I haven’t heard of any renewed hostilities, so I trust Tim’s judgement.  He’s coming home Thursday, after work, and staying at least through Monday morning.”

Bruce couldn’t shake the smile from his face, even if he wanted to, “Then on Thursday, we will have to all go out to a big celebratory dinner.  Think Tim will like that?”

Dick matched the smile, “Tim will love it.  Alfred, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, yeah.  I know.  You may have just made my day, Dickie.  Any idea where Damian went, before I go searching the entire house for him?”

“Um…yes.  He said that he might as well go to bed, since he isn’t allowed to go anywhere else.”

Bruce winced at the pain in the relayed message, “Was that why he yelled?”

“He’s frustrated, Bruce, and I completely understand why.  And, I think, so do you.”

“I just want him to be safe.  I can’t lose him.  You guys seem to forget that, while you all lost me, I lost all of you, too.  I didn’t know if I would ever be able to get back home, or if I would see any of you again.  Believe me, I understand the loss you all felt, because I shared it.  I hope you never have to find out what it feels like to lose a child, much less all of them.”

“You’re right.  Losing a father, twice, was hard enough.  I can’t imagine losing a child, and I don’t want to.  Go, Bruce.  Get your child, before you lose him again.”

Bruce nodded and hustled out of the cave.  Returning to the house, Bruce looked for any sign of the passage of an angry Wayne.  If he remembered his own temper at that age properly, he knew he would find at least one broken thing along the way.  The manor seemed untouched, however, as Bruce climbed the stairs.

Bruce grew concerned as he approached Damian’s room.  The child had taken to blasting very loud, very angry music when he wanted to brood and be left alone.  The room, as he approached, was almost deathly silent.  Bruce wondered if the boy was even in there, until he noticed that the door was slightly cracked open, like it had been pushed closed, but not hard enough to engage the latch.

Bruce nudged the door open just a few inches and peeked inside, just to see if Damian was actually in the room.  The boy was lying on the bed, perfectly still, perfectly silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Damian?” Bruce asked hesitantly.

Upon hearing his father’s voice, Damian got up and walked to the corner of the room.  He sat down with his back in the corner and his arms draped loosely around his knees, which were pulled close to his chest.  Bruce gave a quizzical look and asked, “What are you doing, son?”

“Sorry, Father,” the boy said as respectfully as he could manage, “I should have asked permission before using the bed.”

Bruce walked into the room and sat on the corner of the mattress closest to Damian.  Trying to meet his son’s gaze, he said, “What are you talking about?  Why would you have to ask permission to use your bed?”

“I’m sorry, Father.  It seems that items that were once considered for my use are now off limits, so I thought it would be best if I asked permission first from now on.”

Bruce cringed as he thought, _well, I did pretty much take his mask from him, but this is taking it a bit far.  Have I really fallen that far in his estimation?_   A more disturbing thought followed on the heels of his previous thought.  _Was I ever high enough in his estimation to have anywhere to fall?_   “You don’t have to ask to use your things, Damian,” Bruce said quietly.

“I see, Father.  Thank you for clarifying that for me.”

Bruce noticed that Damian looked even more depressed now.  He asked, “What’s going on here, Damian?  This is your house, just as much as it is anyone’s who lives here.  Why are you acting like an unwelcomed house guest?”

Damian flinched and sniffed at the word ‘unwelcomed’, and Bruce winced, knowing he said the wrong thing.  Bruce slid off the bed and sat on the floor, at the same eye level of his son.  “Damian, you aren’t unwelcome here.  Please, just tell me what’s going on?”

Damian’s eyes were wide, expressing a deep hurt, as he raised his head and met Bruce’s gaze, “Thank you for allowing me to use the things in this room.  Thank you for clarifying what is and isn’t mine.  I’m sorry I have been using your possessions for so long without permission.”

“Damian, what are you…oh.”  Bruce realized his son was referring to Robin’s mask and uniform, which he obviously now viewed as belonging to Bruce.

Damian spoke to his knees as he quietly said, “I’m sorry I have been such a nuisance to you.  I’m sorry I haven’t been as cooperative as you would like.  I’m sorry I have proven to be a disappointment to you.  I’m sorry I’m such a failure.  I-I’ll stay out of your way in the future.  That way, you don’t have to be inconvenienced with my presence.  I…I won’t bother you anymore, Father.”

Bruce was shocked as he crawled forward until he was sitting almost knee to knee with the gently sobbing child.  “Damian, you’re not a nuisance, you’re not a bother; you’re my son.”

“…But not the son you wanted.  It’s okay, Father, I understand.  I’ve gotten used to disappointing people.  Apparently, I’ve been doing it since I was born.  You don’t have to waste your time trying to placate me.  You’re an important person, you shouldn’t have to waste your time on a failure anymore.”

Bruce grew a stern look and tone of voice, hoping to shock the boy into fighting for what he knew Damian wanted.  “That sounds like you’re giving up.  No son of mine, no _Robin_ , is going to give up like that without a fight.”

Damian sobbed harder as he said, “I don’t want to fight anymore.  I’ve been fighting my whole life, and look what it’s gotten me.  My mother doesn’t want me, you don’t want me.  I’m starting to have fewer and fewer of my own, original body parts.  I have scars on every conceivable area of my body…”

“Wait,” Bruce interrupted, “What do you mean, I don’t want you?”

“You just said it.  No son of yours gives up.  I don’t have any fight left, so I have nothing left but to give up.  I don’t hold it against you, Father, I wind up disappointing everyone in the end.”

_So like Dick at that age, no confidence in himself anymore._   “Perhaps, but this isn’t the end, and when my Robins have no fight left, that’s when the rest of the team comes to help.  You’re not done, not by a long shot.  So, here’s what’s going to happen.  I’m going to patrol in an hour or so.  When I get home, I’m going to run your blood test.  If everything comes up clear, which I expect it will, then Batman would be honored to have Robin at his side tomorrow night.”

Damian was quiet for several minutes.  He had stopped crying by the time he said, “Thank you, Father, but tomorrow night is a school night.”

Bruce’s hand rested on Damian’s shoulder as he said, “Yes, it is.  That means we need to work hard and fast to get as many criminals off the streets as possible before I bring you home for your bedtime.  We have to work hard this week, because we are not patrolling on Thursday night.”

Damian slowly lifted his head and cocked it at Bruce, looking interested in something for the first time since Bruce entered the room.  “Thursday?  Oh, do you have some charity event?”

“No,” Bruce smiled at the boy, “We are having a family dinner.”

Damian gave a look of cautious optimism, which Bruce took for a good sign, and continued, “Yeah, Tim is coming home for the weekend.  I thought it would be nice if we all went out for dinner, to celebrate having everyone all together again.”

Damian looked crestfallen as he said, “Oh…Drake.”

Bruce became suspicious at the immediate turn in his child’s attitude.  “That’s going to be okay, right?  Dick said you two came to some sort of understanding.  If it’s going to be too much, we can always change plans.  Nothing is set in stone yet.”

Damian’s lower lip quivered as he said, “No, Father, it’s fine.  I won’t cause any problems.”

“Damian, I want you to tell me if…”

“I said, it’s fine.  We can go celebrate Drake…on Thursday.  There won’t be any problems.”  _You won’t even know I’m there_ , Damian thought to himself.

“If you’re sure…” Bruce trailed off as Damian nodded.  Bruce got up and left the room to prepare for his patrol.

Those words were the last anyone heard Damian speak for the next three days.  The blood test came back negative for any signs of fear toxin, and Bruce offered Damian a weeknight patrol the next night.  He may have mumbled something in the way of thanks before leaving for the patrol, but nothing intelligible.  Most of the patrol that night consisted of a stakeout, so silence was expected, and Bruce thought nothing of not hearing his son speak.

Thursday morning, Damian awoke looking pale and tense.  Alfred had to do a double take when he woke the child for school.

“Are you ill, young sir?”

Damian shook his head as he sat up and stretched, “No, Pennyworth, I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

The butler’s eyes snapped to the child’s face, “Ah, so we’re speaking again?”

“Pennyworth?” Damian asked in a curious tone.

“Don’t think it has escaped our notice that you haven’t uttered so much as a word since your conversation with your father on Monday.  Are you sure you feel alright?”

“Yes, Pennyworth.  I will be down shortly,” Damian said as a dismissal.

True to his word, Damian was down for breakfast almost before Alfred returned to the kitchen.  Breakfast, again, was a silent affair, and, having no reason to do otherwise, Alfred ferried the quiet boy to school.

That night, Bruce came home from work in a foul mood.  Work had been incredibly busy, and if it hadn’t been for the family dinner that he planned, he would still be at his desk, working.  As it was, he had only left himself enough time to return home, pick up Damian and Alfred, and speed back to the city in time to be late for their reservation.

Alfred bustled out of the kitchen as soon as he heard the front door open.  Bruce saw the man hurrying out of the kitchen and said, “I’m sorry, Alfred.  I didn’t mean to cut it this close.”

“You could have called me, sir,” Alfred said, “I could have driven Master Damian and myself to the restaurant and saved you the trip.”

Bruce shook his head, “No use having the whole garage in the parking lot of the restaurant.  It’s bad enough that we’re going to have three cars taking up spaces, we don’t really need a fourth.  Where’s Damian?”

Alfred had to bite back his sigh.  Now was not the time to bring up his concerns regarding the boy.  “Last I saw the young master, he was in his room.”

Bruce muttered to himself as he approached the stairs, “We really don’t have time for this.”  Yelling up to the second story, and hoping he was loud enough to be heard in his son’s room without going upstairs, Bruce called, “Damian, let’s go, we’re late!”

The requested child had been waiting in a sitting room off the main entryway, and had been standing in the doorway, unnoticed by the adults in the room.  Bruce shook his head and placed a foot on the bottom riser to repeat his demand from outside the boy’s door, when Damian said softly, “Here, Father.”

Bruce and Alfred both whipped around to face the boy, shocked to see him ready to walk out the door.  He was wearing a light gray suit and his favorite tennis shoes, and while he didn’t look happy, he also didn’t look like he would be offering any complaints.  Bruce was pleasantly surprised that he did not have to use any of the yelling and lecturing he had planned for.  He was ready for Damian to come down the stairs late, dressed far too casually for the restaurant, or dragging his feet in a display of a youthful tantrum.  He wasn’t ready for the child to cooperate, no matter how pleasing it was to him.

Bruce approached his son slowly and said, “Is everything okay?  I didn’t expect you to be okay with this.”

“I told you I wouldn’t cause problems tonight, Father.  We’re late, we should go,” Damian said softly, almost whispering.

Finding nothing else he could complain about, Bruce nodded and the three men left the house for a quiet ride into the city.

The car was met at the valet stand outside of the restaurant, ten minutes late for their reservation, by Dick.  The younger man looked just as flustered as Bruce had when he arrived home.  He was pleasantly surprised when he saw Damian wearing a suit and not scowling.  He was mildly concerned when he realized that Damian was showing no emotion whatsoever, but greeted the family.

“Hi.  I just got here myself.  We’re in luck, our table isn’t ready yet.”

Bruce looked around and asked, “Where’s Tim?”

Dick had been making his way over to Damian when he stopped and said, “Inside, in the bathroom.”

He returned his attention to Damian and, throwing an arm around his shoulders, pulled the boy in close and asked quietly, “Are you okay?  This isn’t going to be too much for you, is it?”

Damian just nodded as the attention turned to Tim, as the teen walked out of the building to join his family.  He smiled at Bruce and Alfred and said, “Our table is ready.  We should go, before they give it away.”

Tim held the door, beating Alfred to it, as the family entered the restaurant.  He, like everyone else so far, was shocked that Damian was not only at the restaurant, but appropriately dressed and not complaining.  As the boy passed, Tim said nervously, “Hi…Damian.  Um…thanks for coming.  Um…well, I…”

Damian stopped and looked up at the teen and said quietly, “I promised you I would stay out of the way.  I won’t make any trouble, Drake.”

Dinner went more smoothly than any of them had dared hope.  There were some quiet moments, and a bit of awkwardness here and there, but all of the major drama Bruce had been expecting was absent.

Back in the car, Bruce leaned over to Damian and said, “I’m proud of you, Damian.  You handled tonight very well.  I won’t lie, I didn’t hold out high hopes for this evening, but you really came through for the family.  Thank you.”

Damian looked straight ahead at the seat back in front of him as he said quietly, “Thank you, Father.”

Bruce winced as he recognized the tone of voice as the same one used in their conversation in the boy’s room on Monday night.  Bruce stared at the boy the whole trip home, but Damian resolutely looked at the back of the seat in front of him.  The family reunited back at Stately Wayne Manor, and the four elders failed to notice when Damian slipped away and returned to his room.

The following evening, Bruce stuck his head in Damian’s door.  The boy was sitting at his desk, working on some homework.  “Hey, Damian.  We’re going to be leaving on patrol soon.  I would like you to join us.  I don’t think I’ve ever patrolled with all three of my sons at the same time.”

Damian turned his head in Bruce’s direction, but made no attempt to lift his face to meet Bruce’s eyes.  “I failed my math test this week, Father.”

“What?” Bruce gasped, “How did that happen?”

“I spent more time thinking about patrolling than I did studying,” Damian said, matter-of-factly, “I was unprepared for the test.  I’m sorry, Father.”

Bruce entered the room and approached the boy, looking for an explanation.  “I don’t understand, Damian.  You’ve never failed anything before.  You could teach the classes you’re taking.  What really happened?”

“I was unprepared, Father.”

Bruce felt he should be angry for Damian lying to him, but he could detect no falsehood in the boy’s speech.  “I don’t believe that for a second.  Was it because of the fight we had Monday?”

“No, Father,” Damian turned back to his homework, “I just didn’t perform as well as I could have with proper preparation.”

Bruce was grasping at straws now.  He just couldn’t comprehend Damian failing anything having to do with school.  “Did you fail on purpose?  Are you trying to disappoint me on purpose?”

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you, Father.”

“What I am is confused, son.”

“I’m sorry, Father, but I failed my math test.  I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you on your patrol, but your rules clearly state that school comes first.  I was worried about patrolling, and I didn’t pay attention to my schoolwork.  Had I paid better attention, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, but what’s done is done.”

Bruce was frustrated.  He was fairly certain that Damian had bombed the test on purpose, in order to not be around Tim, but he couldn’t prove it with the evidence at hand, and he couldn’t countermand his own rule, which had been in place since before Damian was born.  “Yes, schoolwork comes first.  Very well, thank you for being honest with me.  Keep studying, we’ll talk about this later.”  Bruce left the room, shaking his head in confusion.

Much later that night, Tim snuck into Dick’s room.  He hesitated at the sight of his older brother sleeping, reveling in the sight.  He thought about sneaking out and just letting Dick sleep, when a soft voice said, “You haven’t done this in a while.  I’ve missed it.”

Tim smiled widely as he approached the bed and climbed under the covers that Dick held up, making room for the teen.  “What’s going on, little brother?  You aren’t having second thoughts about coming home this weekend, are you?”

Tim’s smile beamed at the description of the manor as home.  “No, I’ve missed this place, and the people.  I’ve even missed Damian, even if it is just a little bit.”

Dick gave his own, unseen smile.  “Yeah, I got to tell you, Bruce and I were scared about how last night would go.  He really surprised us, especially after the week he’s had.”

“Oh?” Tim asked, intrigued. “Was it bad?”

Dick sighed as he started in on the story.  “He and Bruce had it out on Monday.  You see, Bruce hasn’t let him out on patrol since the night Scarecrow gassed him.”

“What?” Tim sat up, shocked. “That’s like, six weeks ago, isn’t it?  Damian must have been going crazy.”

Nodding, Dick said, “I think he did.  Bruce said they had a really weird conversation after the fight.  Damian hasn’t really been talking to anyone since then.”

“Temper tantrum?”

“If it is, it’s unlike any I’ve ever seen.  Bruce said he was mostly calm, but acting like he was walking on eggshells.  I think it goes deeper than any tantrum.  It’s like…like something serious happened, and he’s the only one that knows about it.  And, whatever it is, he isn’t talking about it.”

They were quiet, thinking, for a minute, before Tim said, “He isn’t even talking to you?”

“First time I’ve heard him say anything since Monday was when he was ordering dinner last night.”

Silence reigned for another minute before Tim said, “I never thought I would say this, Dick, but I think I’m concerned for him.”

“Shh…do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Listen.”

Tim stilled, listening to the night noises of the old house.  It sounded like home to the teen.  After another minute, he said, “Nothing unusual to me, why?”

“I could have sworn I heard something.  It sounded like it was coming from over there.”  Dick pointed to the far wall.

Tim followed Dick’s hand with his eyes and asked, “What’s on the other side of that wall?”

“Damian’s closet.”

“Maybe he left the door open and he’s snoring.  Maybe it’s just the pipes in the wall, or the wind, or the house settling,” Tim suggested.

Dick smirked, “The house is three hundred and fifty years old.  If it hasn’t settled by now, it never will.”

Tim shook his head, “Funny, Dick.  Go to sleep, I’m tired.”

“Are you staying here?”

Tim rolled onto his side and threw an arm over Dick, saying, “Yes, you’re warm, and I’m comfy.”

“Good.  Then, good night, little brother.”  Had either of them investigated further, they would have found the manor’s youngest resident sitting in the back of his closet, crying, his sobs carrying through the wall of the old house.

Tim spent the rest of the weekend with his father and older brother, talking about what he had been doing over the past few months.  It was amazing just how much they had to talk about, given that they saw each other at work almost every day.  The only reason Tim left on Sunday night, instead of Monday morning, is that he ran out of clean clothes, and he refused to make Alfred find an all-night dry cleaners for his suit.

Once Tim had left, it occurred to Bruce that he hadn’t seen Damian since their talk Friday before patrol.  He found the boy exactly where he left him the last time he had seen him, sitting at his desk, reading a book.  It was a school book, so Bruce couldn’t get upset that Damian hadn’t been studying.

“Damian,” Bruce said softly as he entered the room.  The child turned and actually met Bruce’s gaze.  “I understand that we all get distracted from time to time.  I’m not upset with you for failing a test, I just want you to pay a little more attention to your school work, okay?  You’re a good student, don’t let this one slip-up distract you.  One failed test isn’t going to ruin your grade, just don’t make a habit of this, okay?”  Damian nodded and returned to his book as Bruce left for patrol.

There had been an underlying iciness to the manor for the past week, and if Tim hadn’t come home for the weekend, Bruce would have felt it more, and done something about it.  As it was, the distraction of his third son made Bruce forget that he had other obligations around the house.  Following Tim’s departure, the temperature in the house returned to frigid.

Having one less brother to focus on, Dick turned his attention to Damian, in the hopes that he could help lift the boy out of his current funk.  However, his attempts were shot down.  Damian began shutting everyone out, quite literally slamming the door in Dick’s face as he attempted to talk to his little brother.  Alfred was quite upset that he had to tend to the bloody nose that resulted from several dozen pounds of hardened oak being thrown in the face of one who was just trying to help. 

Icy turned to glacial on Monday.  The silence became accompanied by glares while Damian spent as little time with the family as possible.  The rest of the time he locked himself away in his room, refusing to open the door for anything.  Nerves were frayed and everyone on the outside of Damian’s bedroom door was on edge.  No one knew a way to help the lost boy.

Tuesday morning, Alfred came to a realization of what could be causing at least some of the recent attitude.  He checked his calendars for confirmation before letting the child sleep in.  He called the school and reported Damian was home sick, and would not be in today.  Finally, close to a weekend wake-up time, Alfred let himself into Damian’s room.

Opening the curtains to let in the soft, October morning light, Alfred said gently, “Good morning, Master Damian.  Wake up, please.”

He waited a minute until the boy sat up and yawned and stretched before catching a glimpse of the clock on his nightstand.  His eyes widened as he started out of bed, saying, “Pennyworth, I’m late for school.  Is everything okay?  You never wake me up late.”

Alfred hurried across the room and caught the boy’s arm before he could dive into his closet for a school uniform.  “It’s alright, Master Damian.  You have been called out sick from school today.”

“I have?” Damian gave a confused look, “Why, Pennyworth?”

Alfred looked ashamed as he said, “I only just realized this late last night.  I believe I know the reason you have been so distant this past week.  I had to check my calendars this morning to be sure, but when I double checked, I realized that there is another celebration that should have occurred recently, aside from Master Timothy’s return to the manor.  You have now been living with us for a whole year.  I am sorry that no mention was made of this milestone.  I am unsure of the exact date of the anniversary, but I am determined to celebrate it.  You are important to us, Master Damian.  More important than you know, I think.”

Damian almost choked on his words as he said in a thick voice, “It was last Thursday, Pennyworth.”

Alfred nodded, “Ah; that explains the interest you initially showed in last week’s dinner.  Young sir, please don’t assume that you were ignored intentionally.  You are well aware of how much has gone on in the past year, and…” Alfred’s face paled so quickly that Damian thought the man would pass out from loss of blood to the brain.  He was ready to catch the old man if he were to fall as Alfred said in a whisper, “Oh, my.  It seems we should have had another celebration in that time period as well, one that has not been marked in this house.  Master Damian, please tell me we didn’t ignore your birthday.”

Tears flowed freely as Damian hung his head and croaked out, “That was also last Thursday.”

In an uncharacteristic display, Alfred swept the crying boy up into his arms and hugged him tightly, guilt pouring off the Englishman.  “Oh, young sir, I’m so sorry.  Believe me, we didn’t know.  We didn’t know.”

Eventually, Damian returned the hug lightly.  “I believe you,” Damian whispered.

Alfred pulled back and wiped a tear from the boy’s face with a thumb.  Trying to collect himself, he patted the boy’s shoulders and said, “Well.  Your breakfast is ready.  Please get yourself dressed.  My original plan for today was to take you clothes shopping, as I have noticed you are growing a bit.  We will have to add a couple more stops to our trip today.”

Damian’s attitude started to turn around as the day carried on, until their last stop of the day.  The afternoon found Damian and Alfred standing in Bruce’s outer office, and Damian looked decidedly nervous as Jean called in to the office to let Bruce know he had visitors.

“Mr. Wayne, your son is here,” Bruce’s long-time secretary informed him.

A smile could be heard through the tinny speaker of the intercom.  “Oh, good.  He’s early.  I’ll be right there.”

Bruce opened the door with a wide grin on his face, which quickly slipped as he saw a different family member than he was expecting.  “What’s going on?  Alfred, why are you two here?  Damian should still be at school.”

“Let me explain, sir…”

Bruce interrupted, “Did he get sent home?  Is he in trouble at school?”

“Master Wayne, let me explain.  Come, let’s talk in your office.  Master Damian, perhaps it would be best if you remained here.”  Damian nodded as Alfred dragged Bruce into the office and shut the door.

Damian paced the lobby as he waited, wondering what the butler was telling his father.  While waiting, Dick came off the elevator and was surprised to see his younger brother.

“Damian, is everything okay?”

Damian thought hard before answering.  The truth was, he didn’t know if everything was going to be okay.  Dick noticed that the child was trembling when he finally stopped pacing.  He opened his mouth to answer as the door to Bruce’s office flew open.

“Da…Dick, you’re here, good.  You two, get in here, now.  Jean, when Tim gets here, send him straight in.”

The secretary was nervous for the two boys as they entered the office.  Damian trudged into the room as Dick followed, confused.  The door was closed behind them, and Damian took a spot next to Alfred as Bruce looked at his son in wonderment.

“Damian, is what Alfred told me true?”

Damian glanced up at Alfred, who nodded to the boy.  He quietly said, “Yes, Father.”

“Wait, is what true?” Dick looked between Bruce and Damian, one looking depressingly astonished, while the other looked contrite and sad.

“Why didn’t you tell us, son?” Bruce looked about ready to cry as he pleaded an answer out of his son.

“Why didn’t he tell you what?” Dick began getting angry at being left out of the loop.

Bruce’s office door opened again, and Tim entered hesitantly.  “Is everything alright?  Jean looks scared.  What did you do, Bruce?”

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and said, “Perhaps a little explanation is in order, sir?”

Bruce took a deep breath and looked at Dick and Tim.  “It appears that we missed something very important last week, something we didn’t know about.  You see, last Thursday, when we were celebrating you coming home, Tim, we had two more milestones to celebrate.  According to what I’ve just been told, last Thursday marked the one year anniversary of Damian coming to stay with us.”

Dick and Tim both gasped.  Tim turned to Dick and said, “I can’t believe we missed that.”

Dick looked just as misty as Bruce as he approached Damian.  Kneeling down, he met the boy’s eyes and said, “Did we really miss something that important, Damian?”

While Damian nodded slowly, Bruce said, “Oh, it gets worse, Dick.  There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.  Last Thursday was also Damian’s eleventh birthday.”

Bruce dropped his head into his hands as the waterworks in Dick’s eyes started.  He pulled the boy in tight and sobbed into Damian’s shirt.  Dick had never felt like a worse brother than he did in that moment.

The room was quiet for several minutes before Tim spoke up.  He walked up to the boy, who eyed him warily, and offered his hand to the boy.  As Damian took it, Tim said, “Well, if no one else is going to say it, then I will.  Happy birthday, Damian.  I’m sorry we didn’t know earlier, we could have done something on your day, instead of doing something for me.  I didn’t need a special dinner; you deserve one.”

“Thank you, Drake,” Damian said quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bruce asked again.

“Why didn’t you ask?”

That one quiet comment stunned the room.  _Why haven’t we asked_ , Dick thought to himself.  _We’ve been so busy this year, I never thought to ask._

“You’re right, son, we should have asked.  I never thought of it.  I’m sorry, Damian.”

Damian looked eminently depressed at Bruce’s comment.  Bruce caught the look and sputtered, “Damian, it’s not that you aren’t important to us, it’s just…”

Damian interrupted, “No, I understand, Father.  You have better things to do than worry about me.  It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, son.  It’s okay for you to be mad at me, but it’s not okay to forget your birthday.  Is this the whole reason you’ve been distant lately, or is there anything else we should know about?”

All eyes were on Damian as he thought.  He finally said, “We shouldn’t talk here, Father.  It’s mostly this, but also a few… _other_ things.”

Bruce caught the inflection on ‘other’ and quickly nodded.  “Fine, we can talk in the car on the way to the restaurant.  Pick out where you would like to go for your birthday dinner, Damian.”

Bruce grabbed his coat, and was just pulling his sleeve on when he stopped, stunned, as Damian said, “I…I think I would rather just go home, Father.  I don’t want you to do anything just because you feel guilted into it.  It’s a little early for the three of you to leave the office for the day, anyway, isn’t it?”

Bruce grimaced as he pulled his coat on the rest of the way and said, “That’s the beauty of having our name on the building, we can come and go as we please.”

Damian grew a defiant smirk, surprising everyone in the room, “Aren’t you the one who told me just the other day that _I_ needed to work harder?”

Tim tried to stifle a giggle, and failed.  Alfred covered his mouth with a hand, surprised that the recently melancholy child would throw out a one-liner like that.  Dick pulled Damian into another tight hug as Bruce said, “Yes, in school.  _I_ didn’t fail a math test last week, and neither of them ever failed a test.”

Back in the car on the way home, Bruce turned to Damian and asked for the third time, “Why didn’t you say anything, son?  I asked you before the dinner if everything was alright.”

“No, you asked if I would be able to handle being at the same table in public with Drake, not if there was anything else that should have been done that day.  As for why I didn’t say anything, I thought at the very least that Mother would have told you that it was my birthday when she left me with you.”

Bruce grimaced, “Talia and I didn’t exactly have a long conversation that day.  If you remember, people were trying to kill her and you.  I thought survival was a more pressing matter in that situation.  So, when no mention of your birthday was made, you assumed that we were purposefully ignoring it, because you are not important to us?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian mumbled.

“You know that’s not true, right?”

“No, Father, I don’t.  You treat me like some kind of annoyance, like you got stuck with me, and you’re trying to…I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but…” Damian trailed off with a grunt of annoyance as he failed to come up with a proper analogy.

“What did you expect when you came here?” Damian rolled his eyes at the question, and Bruce persisted, “No, Damian, I actually want to know what you expected when you came to live with us.”

Damian regarded his father for half a minute before he relented.  “Fine, let me tell you about my past birthdays.  Birthdays aren’t celebrated in the League of Assassins.  They may be mentioned in passing, but they are just another day.  I’ve only ever received two of what you would call birthday presents in my life.  One was from Grandfather on my seventh birthday.  He gave me my sword, the one hanging above my bed.  It’s an antique, a relic he earned by defeating a ninja master.  He took the sword from his dead body, and eventually handed it down to me.  The second was just before my fifth birthday.  Mother gave me information that would change the path of my life.

“You see, growing up, it was just me, her, and Grandfather.  Just before my fifth birthday, I asked her about my father.  Who was he, why had I never met him, was he still alive, did he even know I existed?  Mother surprised me by telling me about you.  She didn’t make me earn the information, like I had to earn everything else.  She told me about Bruce Wayne, then she told me about Batman.  Naturally, my next question was when could I meet you?  That was when she began the most rigorous portion of my training.  I was told that, in order to earn the right to meet you, I had to defeat her in single combat.  The only rule was that the combat had to take place around my birthday to count.  I couldn’t kill her in her sleep in February and claim I won.  I had all year to plan how I would make my assault.  I could use any method I wanted, but in order to win, I had to force her to give in.  It took me five years to finally earn the right to meet you, but I did it, I defeated her.

“The whole five years, she continued to tell me stories about you.  Not just about the master detective, or the maverick businessman, but about the man she fell in love with.  She does love you, or, at least, she did.  Through her stories, she built up an image of you in my mind…”

Bruce sighed, “An image that I shattered, by not immediately accepting you?”

Damian looked away and sniffed, “Well, yeah.  She told me of this loving, accepting man.  I wondered what that would be like, to not have to fight for someone’s affection, to have a person that wanted to be around me without having a personal agenda.”

“So, what happened?” Bruce asked quietly.

Damian looked at the floorboard as he said, “In educating me about Batman, I naturally learned about Robin.  She told me you had had several; she didn’t tell me that they all had been your sons.  I came here, to you, expecting to continue to be an only child, only to find out that I was one of many.  That…that was when the jealousy first started.”

“Jealousy?”

Damian nodded, “Yes, Father.  I was, and to some extent, still am, jealous of my brothers.  I had never had to compete for attention before.  It took me a couple days to realize that was what I was feeling, and I didn’t like it when I did, but I didn’t know what to do about it.  Here you were, living your life, with your hand-picked children.  I saw how easy your relationships were with them, and I didn’t know how to do that.  You chose your own family, and you were happy, until I came along.  I started wondering what you would need me for, when you already had other children, children that you had chosen.”  Damian sniffed and wiped at his moist eyes, “I guess this is all my fault.  I had five years to prepare myself for you; you only had five minutes before you were responsible for another son.  I guess it wasn’t really fair on you, for Mother to dump me on you and take off like she did.”

Bruce unbuckled himself and slid over to throw an arm around his son and pull him close.  “Hey, you aren’t a burden.  You aren’t an annoyance.  Yeah, it kind of threw things out of whack when you came to us, but that happened with every one of your brothers, too.  There have been a lot of tough times in dealing with four sons.  Something Dick told me a while ago is playing over and over in my head right now.  It isn’t fair to you, the way we treated you.  We expected you to change every part of your personality overnight.  That’s impossible for anyone, but I expected it of you.  I’m sorry about that.  About what you said the other night, you should be the disappointed one, not me.  I had no frame of reference for when you came to us, I should have had no expectations.  You, on the other hand, had prior warning about me, and I managed to crush my child’s dreams in one meeting.  There’s no excuse for that, but I’m sorry.”

The car fell silent as Damian laid his head on his father’s shoulder and closed his eyes.  The next thing he knew, he was being carried into the manor.

“Hey…Wha?” the boy stirred in the strong arms holding him.

“Shh…It’s okay, we’re home.  You fell asleep in the car.”  Bruce walked up the stairs, not letting Damian down now that he was awake.  They entered the child’s room, and Damian thought he was being punished for something by being taken to his room.  Bruce caught the look and said softly, “If you want to take a nap, dinner won’t be for a while yet.  If not, you don’t have to stay in here, if you don’t want to.  You aren’t being punished for anything, I just thought you might want to take a nap.  It’s been quite a day.”

Damian settled on the bed, not quite sure of what he should be feeling as Bruce took the boy’s shoes off and covered him in a blanket.  Bruce sat next to him, softly running his fingers through Damian’s hair.  “I wish I’d known, Damian, I really do.  You have no idea how sorry I am that my lack of thought caused you so much pain.  You are _so_ important to me, and I know I don’t show it.  I wish there was a way to make this up to you.  You’re going to have to help me with that.  I can’t guarantee I won’t go back to my old ways, but I think you know by now that the one thing I value most is openness.  I want you to call me on it if I’m expecting things from you that you can’t do.  You have three willing allies downstairs; they know what to look for in my behavior; they will be of more help to you than I can ever be.  Just out of curiosity, why did you target Tim when you first came here?”

Damian shrugged as sleep began to envelope him, “He was Robin.  As your son, that should have been mine.  I came straight from the League to the Bat Cave, I didn’t know how to act outside of the League.  I knew you trained with the League, I figured here would just be an extension of that.  I wasn’t ready for him to come to me with kindness.  In the League, kindness equals weakness, and no assistant of my father’s should ever be seen as weak.  I guess first impressions are hard to break.  I know I didn’t make the best impression on Drake, either.  If it means anything, I don’t really want to kill him anymore.  He is still kinda annoying, though.”

Bruce smiled as Damian shut his eyes, “I’m sure he would say the same thing about you.  Sleep, son.  I’ll come get you for dinner.”

_The Next Day…_

Bruce sat at his desk in his office, trying to slog through a small mountain of paperwork.  Leaving early yesterday may have had beneficial effects for his family, but it just added to his duties at work.

Leaning back from the table for a second, Bruce spun his chair around and took in the commanding view of the city as offered from his top floor office.  It always amazed him how different the view of the city looked from here, as opposed to the view from the front porch of the manor, or the view he got from the roof of a skyscraper as Batman.

He was just starting to relax a bit when the intercom buzzed.  Jean spoke up, saying, “Mr. Wayne, you have a call from a Miss Warren waiting on line two.”

Sighing, Bruce turned back to his desk.  “Warren?  Warren.  Do we know a Warren, Jean?”

“Possibly, sir.  She sounded like she had important business, though.”

A smirk flitted across his face, “They always do, don’t they?  Hey, isn’t Warren the rep from G.E.?”

“You’re thinking of Warren Fielding, Mr. Wayne, and your call with him isn’t until tomorrow morning.  She said her name was Samantha Warren, and it was very important that she speak with you.”

“Okay, Jean.  I guess I’ll find out the hard way.”

“Line two, sir.” The intercom cut off as Jean hung up her phone.

Bruce punched the button for his speakerphone and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his tired eyes as he said, “This is Bruce Wayne, how can I help you.”

A young-sounding, nasally voice came through the small speaker.  “Mr. Wayne, my name is Samantha Warren, sir, and I’m one of the counselors here at the Warrington School.  I’m calling today to speak with you about your son, Damian.”

_Oh God, what did he do now?_   A drop of trepidation fell into his stomach as he sat up again.  “Yes, Miss Warren.  Is everything okay?  He isn’t hurt or anything, is he?”

“No, sir, he’s fine, at least physically.”

“What does that mean?”

A slight huff entered the woman’s voice as she said, “Mr. Wayne, a meeting took place today with your son’s teachers, to discuss recent changes in his behavior.”

“Isn’t that the kind of thing I should have been invited to?” Bruce asked shrewdly.

“It was an informal meeting, called on the spur of the moment.  Your son’s teachers wanted to make sure the changes seen in your son were documented.  I would also like to ask you if anything is going on at home that we should know about.”

The horrors of CPS inspections flashed through Bruce’s mind.  _We haven’t had to go through those since just after Dick came to us, I don’t want to do that again._   “Why don’t you tell me what kind of changes you’re talking about?”

“Okay, sir.  Well, I have a report from the librarian that says every day for the past three weeks, Damian has been going into the library at lunch.”

“Is he destroying property?”

“No, sir.”

“Graffiti?  Is he writing or drawing in the books?”

“No, sir.”

“Is he bullying other students, or breaking the library rules?”

“No, sir.”

Bruce sounded confused, “Then, I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is that he’s _not_ doing those things.  Up until three weeks ago, the librarian was afraid of your son.  She expected him to do any or all of the things you mentioned.  She says that now he will just go to a secluded spot and do homework or read silently.”

Bruce gave his phone an odd look, “So, you’re telling me that the librarian is concerned that my son is using the library _appropriately?”_

Bruce thought that the counselor on the other end of the phone was starting to see the lunacy of her topic of conversation.  “I also have almost identical reports from all of his teachers.  Starting at the same time as the library behaviors, Damian stopped talking in class.”

“You mean he stopped disrupting the classes by speaking out of turn?”

“Yes, that, but also stopped speaking.  He may have disrupted class at times, but he also gave complete and precise answers when teachers asked questions.  He used to offer opinions during class discussions, and would actively participate in the subjects being taught.  If the reports I’m looking at are correct, your son hasn’t said so much as a ‘hello’, from the time he enters the building in the morning, to the time he is picked up after school, in close to three weeks.  Now, when a normally bright, garrulous, somewhat unruly child takes that swift of a turn in behavior, people sit up and notice.  Now, is there anything going on at home that we should know about?”

Bruce winced, _I guess I should own up to my lousy parenting skills.  Damian shouldn’t take the blame, when it sounds like he isn’t doing anything wrong_.  “Well, Miss Warren, it hasn’t been an easy year for anyone at home.  You see, he was raised by his mother until he was ten.  She never told me I had a son until she showed up on my doorstep with him and basically dumped him.  The behaviors you were seeing before were a result of that action, I believe.  What we are seeing now may be closer to the true Damian.  I think the real him is actually somewhere in the middle, and that should come out soon.  However, to add to the trauma of being left with what essentially were strangers to him, we were told next to nothing about him.  That included his birthday, which was last week.  He has been upset that, not only did we miss his birthday, but we were insensitive enough not to have asked him when his birthday was.  I guess I should take complete responsibility for his change in behavior.  We’re working on it at home.  We actually had a nice conversation yesterday.  I think he will start stabilizing in his behaviors soon.  Of course, with my luck, he will get to a stable emotional state just in time to start puberty.”

Bruce could hear the smile in his caller’s voice, mixed with a hint of pity.  “Mr. Wayne, what you have told me makes perfect sense, thank you.  To be honest, I would be more concerned if his grades had started slipping, but as it is…”

Bruce interrupted, “Wait, what about his math test?  He told me he didn’t do well at all on it.”

Bruce could hear a keyboard clicking in the background before the woman said, “No, everything looks okay.  In fact, if anything, his grades have gone up over the past three weeks.”

“You must not have everything entered in your system yet, then,” Bruce said, his confusion growing.

“I have a complete record of all the work he has turned in, from his ‘what I did over the summer’ essay at the beginning of the year, to the homework he turned in today.  Not one missing assignment, and nothing below a 95%.”

“What about his math test, last Friday?”

“Hmm, let me see,” Bruce found he was leaning forward while he waited for her to look up the score.  “Last math test score I have listed, dated last Friday, is a 99.  He is on track to have one of the higher grade point averages in the school, if he keeps his work up.”

The father was relieved, but a new concern was working its way through his mind.  “Thank you, Miss Warren.  Was there anything else?”

“No, sir, Mr. Wayne.  I’m glad to know that there is a reason for his recent behavior, or lack of behavior, as it were.  Please continue to work with him, and let us know if there is anything we can do to help, or if anything new comes up.  Good bye, Mr. Wayne.”

“Good bye, Miss Warren.”  Bruce hung up the phone and sat back again.  _Why would he lie to me, and tell me he failed the test?  He really did want to get out of patrol, didn’t he?  Or, did he want an excuse to be away from_ me _?_   Bruce looked at his watch and thought, _well, it’s only half an hour early.  I got some paperwork done today.  I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else until I figure out why he’s acting this way anyways._ Bruce got up and hurried out of his office, telling Jean who this Warren was and that he would be in early in the morning to catch up on what he was missing.

He walked into the foyer of Stately Wayne Manor forty-five minutes later, and went straight to Damian’s room after dropping his briefcase, coat, and shoes in the general vicinity of the coat closet in the entryway.  Bruce found Damian where he had found the boy every day for the past week, at his desk, reading a book.

Damian didn’t look up as Bruce said quietly, “Why did you lie to me?”

“Which lie?  I tell a lot of them,” Damian said lightly, turning the page in his book.

“No, you really don’t, which is why this one is that much more confusing.  I got a call from the school counselor today.  Your teachers are concerned about you.  It seems that you are not disrupting class, speaking out, or bullying other kids at school.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” the boy finally glanced at his father.

Entering the room, Bruce sat on the edge of Damian’s bed.  “Yes, it is, but to go from one way one day, to the complete opposite the next, is a concerning transition.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not getting calls telling me that you are causing trouble, but you’re not acting like ‘you’, either.”

Damian turned to face his father, then let his face drop.  Staring at his father’s feet, he said, “I thought that was what you wanted.  I thought you wanted a son who acted like everyone else.  You obviously didn’t want ‘me’, so I thought…maybe if I’m not ‘me’ anymore, you might want me; a child who doesn’t stick out, or cause trouble.”

Bruce fell to his knees, brought to the verge of tears by the pain in the quiet revelation.  He pulled the quietly depressed boy out of his chair and into his lap, squeezing him tightly to his chest.  He sobbed out, “Damian, I can’t imagine my life without you anymore.  Yes, it’s true, I don’t want a troublemaker, but I also don’t want you to change who you are, because you think it’s what I want.  You need to be ‘you’.  Yes, definitely tone down the bullying, and the attitude, at least when you’re at school, but don’t change who you are.”

Small arms slowly worked their way around Bruce’s neck and gripped tightly.  Several minutes later, a soft, emotion-filled voice said hesitantly, “You…you actually…w-want… _me_?”

A short, sob-filled laugh emanated from the man, “Damian, you are by far the best thing that has come out of my involvement with your mother.  You’re mine, and I don’t give up what’s mine without a fight.  I’m ready to fight for you, son.  I should have been ready a year ago, but I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.  You deserve better than me.”

“No, Father.  I should thank you.”

Bruce pulled back, to look his son in the face, “Thank me?  For what?”

“For showing me the person my mother fell in love with, just now.  For letting me see the man I built up in my mind over those years.  The man _I_ fought for, who I wanted to be my father.”

Despite himself, Bruce smiled, “I guess I should let him out more often.”

Damian returned the smile with his own, “Yes, Father, please.”

From the doorway, a pair of matched sniffles sounded, marking the audience watching from the hallway.  Dick blew his nose on a handkerchief, handed to him by Alfred, before saying, “That was…beautiful, you two.  Just…beautiful.”

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes, grinning at the blush on Damian’s cheeks.  “Dick?”

“Yeah, Bruce?”

“Shut up.”

 

**A/N:  Well, another mental wandering has produced another work.  If you check my time line, there are three stories listed that have not been published yet.  This is one of them.  The other two are both in the works and well on their way to completion.  I hope to have the next one, another long one-shot following the adventures of young Dick Grayson, out just after Thanksgiving.  I will then be focusing everything on my second multi-chapter tale, the promised Tim/Damian adventure, and get that up as soon as possible.  I already have several chapters completed of that story.  Unfortunately, none of them are the first chapter.  It looks like this one will be shorter than Dark Days, Black Nights, but I personally like the story of the new one a little better.**

**Thanks for playing along, and remember, I write these to have fun and relieve stress.  You should read them in the same manner.**

**Standard Disclaimer: Don’t own it, I just make it up.**


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